Forgotten Voice
by Lampetia
Summary: Faith's adventures in finding herself continue as her life goes from simple and normal to extraordinary and strange. God, as a character, of course is not mine ;) R&R if you feel compelled; I like to hear from the readers!
1. Default Chapter

**

FORGOTTEN VOICE 

**

The first time Faith heard God she was five. She was watching TV in my living room. Faith lived in her great-grandparents old house. They'd both passed away by then, and her dad had just gotten his first job. Since no one had one for him; he'd had to make his own. He was setting up a business as a mechanic. When she got older, she read in a book somewhere that 75% of new businesses close down within the first five years. He must have been so afraid. 

He was building his garage in the background, a tall one bigger than I'd ever seen – but it never got smaller as Faith got older, and the sound of hammering echoed in the background. 

She was watching a movie, mostly because her parents didn't let her watch any of the violent cartoons on TV. It was probably one she'd seen before, because she remembers being bored. 

Suddenly, the screen starts to blur – her mom used to call it "snow." 

It was a common thing. The TV was old, and she'd learned to deal with it. Hell, at that time, she probably thought all TVs did that. 

But it still sucked, and she was still bored. 

So Faith thought to she for some odd reason. God, will you play a game with me? Faith still doesn't remember if she heard anything in particular, like a voice in the sky or voice in her head or a voice anywhere really. But she knew that God had answered her. So she kept thinking. 

Alright, when I say something that's not true, you make the TV snow. And when I say something that is true, keep it the same. 

She looked down at the orangey-brown carpet I was sitting one. 

The carpet is blue. 

The cartoon disappeared. Snow took its place, and lots of it. 

Faith grinned; she thought she even laughed. 

The carpet's really brown. 

The cartoon snapped back on. 

She was thrilled. 

The game with God went on for a few more minutes, and she started to talk loudly and excitedly, staring at the TV as she sat there. 

Her mom, who was cooking dinner in the kitchen a few steps away, came to see what was going on in the living room. Faith imagines that she was holding my brother, coddling him, but admits she could be wrong. 

"What're you doing, Faith?" She sounded amused. 

She looked up, grinning. "I'm playing a game with God." 

Her mom didn't say anything, and Faith imagines her being confused, freezing as her daughter sat there giggling. 

"What're you playing with him?" 

So Faith explained the concept of the game to her. 

She smiled and told her daughter to get ready for dinner. 

Faith didn't learn about the fights her parents got in because of her "voices", or not until she got much older. But her mom understood; she always had. Her dad took a little more time, but he got there. 

And Faith? 

Well, let's just say it took her a lot longer to understand exactly what's going on than they did. So long that it still is today. 

But when our story begins, Faith cannot remember any of this, not when she was five, not the voices, not her old living room…not even God. But that's just temporary. A strong reminder hit Faith her freshman year. And though she tried to run from it, she found it impossible to hide from… 


	2. Boundaries - Chapter I

**

BOUNDARIES 

**

Chapter One 

"Out of my way, freak." 

Sabrina Rosencrantz, the high society of senior high, cast Ramona Lee, the underclass of her world, a disgusted glance. Her tittering minions behind her, all miniature versions of the make-uped, Abercrombie and Fitch dictator perched in front of them, followed suit. 

Holding her head up high, Ramona sent an equally disdainful (as she called it) gaze back and continued on her path through the boisterous lunchroom, stepping right in front of Sabrina. The queen sent her a shocked look. Ramona just smiled and continued. 

"Jerks," she muttered to her 'comrade in non-conformism' beside her. 

Clearing her throat meekly, Faith Clarky looked back to the seniors with the fierceness of a woodland doe. Already within her first month of high school, she had been classified. Faith straightened her dark-rimmed glasses and pulled back her stringy brown hair it its no-nonsense ponytail. She looked down at herself. With her green and yellow plaid Catholic schoolgirl skirt just above her ankles, oversized yellow shirt, and Mary Janes passed down from eighth-grade, one thing was for certain. 

Faith needed no scarlet "G" on her cardigan for the high school masses to think "Geek." 

But Faith didn't mind the way that other people thought she would. She didn't have the pressures everyone else had, or the need to wear designer clothes and laugh at jokes that ripped the different people apart and talk about guys like they were flavors of gum. (Have you tried Tom? He's great, really….) She liked books, horses, her pure moods soundtrack, philosophical conversations, trips out with her cousins in Pennsylvania, her woods, writing poems…It just made sense in her mind. It was what was for best that they didn't accept her. After all what kind of person would you be if you did….or at least that's what she always told herself. She just didn't fit in with the popular kids. She didn't fit in with the rich kids, though somehow those two categories always seemed to intertwine. She didn't fit in with the jocks, the sophomores, the juniors, the funny and outgoing kids, the skanks (who were somehow slightly different than the popular kids), or the theater/show kids. 

So where else did you go when you had nowhere else to? 

The geeks. 

Or at least that was what she had learned in her first month of high school. Wow, she thought. Only here a month and already marked with the label that will follow me throughout my four years here… 

"C'mon, c'mon, let's get going," one of the jocks behind her called, irritated. If he would have had a whip, Faith couldn't jolted forward any faster, eager to clear the way for him. 

He sighed exasperated, pushing past her as she skittered to her corner of the lunchroom. "Christ, what is wrong with you people…" he muttered in a growl. 

Faith looked up, crossing her arms in contempt as she plopped down in the last seat of the last row of chairs. 

Four years, she thought plunking down her crumpled brown lunch bag. How would she endure it? 

Ramona had gone up to buy a meatball sandwich, the specialty of the day, and the other two girls and one boy who usually sat with them were away on a science trip, the initiation of the Environmental Studies Corner returning members, which left Faith by herself in the lunchroom, exposed and alone. 

Searching for Ramona in hopes she would return soon, Faith looked around as the lunchroom masses, who either cast her irked stares or none at all, looking over her like paint on the walls, taking her for granted. She was here today, so she'd be here tomorrow. Don't worry; it's just that Clarky girl, what a geek. 

She frowned. 

Faith hated thoughts like that. 

"Excuse me," a kind voice cut through the mayhem and a large warm hand gently held her shoulder. 

Surprised, Faith nearly dropped her cheese and turkey sandwich. 

As she looked to see who had passed her, she found…utter beauty. 

A six-foot, skinny yet muscular, shaven, brown hair, blue-eyed, tight-white shirt and perfectly-form-fitting blue slacked sophomore grinned to her as he passed. 

"Chad, what're you doing over there, you pussy!" 

Faith was shocked back into her world. The varsity jackets were welcoming him, and with a wider grin 'Chad' responded graciously, going over to sit with them. 

Faith sighed, her shoulders slouching. And for a second, she thought she'd been accepted into someone else's world, just for a second. 

"Forget it." 

Faith shook herself out of her thoughts. "What?" 

Ramona smirked as she placed herself across from Faith and nodded to the boy who had gripped her shoulder. "That's Chad Richardson, track and field champ and recruit of Ridgefield Middle School." Faith stared at him, joking and laughing with the multitude of good-looking and built guys huddling around one little table. "He may be a freshman, but he may as well be ten thousand miles away from you." 

Faith shrugged, taking out a mass of tinfoil that was really a brownie. "He seems nice to me…" 

Ramona cast an incredulous look at her. "Please…give it a week, maybe two." She bit into her sandwich, her eyes sending daggers to the group. "He'll be just like them, you'll see." 

Faith nodded, not wanting to argue the point. Ramona was a sophomore…she knew more about this than Faith did. She hunched back down to enjoy her sandwich when she glanced up at him once more, magnetically attracted to his eyes. 

He was staring at her. 

Faith stared back and a delayed grin burst onto her face. 

He grinned back. 

Ramona arched an eyebrow at her, and she meekly averted her eyes as Chad did his. Their conversation turned back to the others who were missing because of the science initiation and how Faith's classes were going so far. She even mentioned something about going to church this afternoon for a welcoming mass. 

Faith wasn't sure if Ramona had noticed, but her thoughts were far, far away from science groups and tests in two weeks and mass at 2 pm. They were on Chad Richardson, and how his touch on her shoulder lingered… 


	3. Dismissal?

**

DISMISSAL? 

**

Chapter Two 

"Hi, Faith." 

Faith was jolted from her homework. 

Upon glancing upward, she immediately fell victim once again to the compelling drag to Chad's baby blue eyes. Faith went speechless. His smile, his body, just him…he was so perfect. She smiled back. "Hi, Chad. Wh-what're you doing here?" she stammered, clearing her throat. 

He neared, his eyes locked onto hers. "I came here to see you…I knew you would be here. You're always here after school," he said softly. 

Faith's grin turned giddy, and she giggled. "I am? How did you know that?" 

"Because I've been trying to get up to gumshion to ask you out…But I just couldn't. Faith…" He took her hand in his, brushing aside her Algebra homework. "Will you go out with me?" 

"Yes," she impulsively shouted. 

Chad brushed his hand down the length of her long brown hair. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that…" His grin turned slightly mischievous, and Faith arched her neck, allowing him to lean in for a kiss. 

Suddenly, someone dropped a kneeler, bursting Faith from her slumber. Wait, where was he? Was it real? Faith looked around, confused and bewildered. No…she sighed, her brow furrowing. She was in chapel at the welcoming mass. 

Christ, why didn't she know it was a dream? Chad was an untouchable, and all the dreams in the world would never bring him closer to her. Disappointed and feeling tricked, she looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed her catnap during church. 

A nun on the other side of the church cast her a dirty look. Embarrassed, Faith studied the priest, trying in vain to avoid the sister's stare. Her guilty conscience took its toll. She was in church, why wasn't she paying attention to the mass. 

She sighed, focusing on focusing. 

Sometimes being a Catholic wasn't as easy as it looked. 

The roly-poly priest gave his biggest smile and stretched out his arms to the congregation. "The mass is ended, go forth to love and serve the Lord!" Wow, had she really slept through the entire mass? 

"Thanks be to God!" 

"Yeah, that's it's over," Ramona murmured just loud enough for the Faith to hear. Faith frowned, disapproving of her comment as she opened her hymnals to the closing song, "Glory and Praise to our God"… but not completely disagreeing. 

They only sang one verse, long enough for the priest to make his procession down the aisle, and soon, the students began to talk amongst themselves. 

"Alright, can we leave now?" 

"God, the principal's going up to the podium." 

"Great…you know that that means?" 

"Three more hours, listening to the nun preach even more." 

"Jesus Christ." 

Hmm, appropriate catch phrase, though cliché, Faith couldn't help thinking, amused. She obediently took her seat along with the rest of the school. 

"Welcome back to Our Lady of the Rosary Academy," Sister Lily, the principal spoke, smiling widely. "As an almost-tradition here, we've snagged five other priests and confession will be held for the next hour and a half." 

Silence met her answer. 

Sr. Lily smirked, looking overtop of her horn-rimmed glasses. "In other words, classes will be delayed until tomorrow morning." 

The braver seniors and some juniors and Ramona hooted and hollered in their seats, contemporarily showing their appreciation. 

Sr. Lily laughed good-naturedly as the nun who had sent Faith the nasty look took great means to quiet them down. "I thought that might get your attention." About an eighth of the students laughed politely. "But I must urge you to take advantage of this opportunity. It only comes but twice a year." A few more polite chuckles. "Other than that, news of the semi-formal is already reaching far and wide. So as of tomorrow, a committee will be voted for to put together the dance." 

A few quieter hoots and more girlish giggles. 

The nun smiled. "Until then…go catch your buses and seniors, drive safely." 

With that, the pews emptied as quickly as milk from an upside-down carton. The seniors went to their cars; the juniors begged for rides, and the freshman and sophomores stayed around to either guiltily go to confession or guiltily pretend they just went recently and wait for their buses. 

Faith stopped at one of the quickly filling lines for confession when she saw Ramona heading in the opposite direction. "Hey," she called to her. Ramona hadn't heard her. "Hey, Ramona!" The girl turned around, eyebrow raised. 

Faith sent her one of her famous confused glances. "Aren't you going to confession?" 

For a moment, Ramona looked like she was going to puke. She took a deep, cleansing breath and stood next to a statue of one of the saints outside of the chapel. "Faith…I'd rather shove this very pointy and rusty scepter, that St. Pat is holding, up my-" 

"Ramona!" 

She stopped. "You get the idea." 

Faith was rendered speechless and with a wave, Ramona turned to leave. 

Faith sighed and returned to the even longer line. She may as well get it over with...looking upward, Faith tried to remember what she'd actually done the past couple months. Missed church once..but that was because she was sick? Did it count? She'd screamed at her parents and brother...but they screamed first. She lied a few times about stupid things...nothing really major... 

But within the mist of her conscience-searching, she saw Ramona heading back. 

A grin broke onto her face. "I thought you would come back," Faith called playfully. 

Ramona rolled her eyes. "No, just stopped by to remind you that you don't have time to go to confession," she said. 

Faith blinked. "Why not?" 

"Because you've got a doctor's appointment at three?" 

Faith gasped. She remembered the look on her mother's face, her voice and tone echoing in her head. And don't you forget, your knees depend on this! Her mother was probably in the parkinglot right now, wondering where she was. She'd already forgotten last week when they'd made the doctor's appointment, and already she was doing it again, after swearing not to. Panicky, Faith broke into a run, rushing past the small groups waiting in lines for the priests. Her mother was going to kill her if she was late again. She looked up- 

And came face to face with clergy. 

Faith toppled over, or would have, if the young priest hadn't caught her and kept her at her feet. "Hey, whoa, what's your hurry, huh? Where's the fire?" 

Confused, Faith scrambled to regain her composure. "I-I'm sorry," she apologized, quickly moving to go past him. "Thank you." 

But he caught her arm. 

"Have you been to confession yet?" 

Faith arched an eyebrow. What was he talking about, why did he care? "No," she admitted, pausing before her lie and telling the truth. "But I really have to get out of here, I have a doctor's appointment. I-It's important." 

The priest leaned in, whispering to her as he cautiously looked from side to side as so not to be heard. "Not as important as the news I have to tell you.".... 


	4. Bad News

**BAD NEWS **

Chapter Three 

Faith frowned, immediately pulling away from the frightening cleric. "What?" 

The priest had an urgency in his tone that Faith had never heard before. "It may not seem like it now, but everything you know depends on what I tell you." 

Faith panicked. What was he talking about?! Her mother was going to kill her…and he was freaking her out. "I'm sorry, I can't, I-" 

Just then an familiar voice sounded right next to her ear. "I have been waiting fifteen minutes." 

As she turned, her mother, crossing her arms and looking quite perturbed, came into view. 

Faith looked back to the priest apologetically. "I'm sorry, I-" 

But only an empty hallway met her eye. 

Faith's eyes darted to the right and left. Swerving into a circle, she searched for his black-cloaked form. "Where did he go?" she said aloud, mystified. 

"Where did who go?" her mother, Jackie, demanded. 

"A priest," Faith quickly answered. She continued looking around as her mother prompted her to walk away from the confessionals. She looked behind herself, determined to catch sight of him. "We were talking and he said he had something important to say…and then he just disappeared." 

Her mother, Jackie, hurriedly led her down the stairs of the Catholic school. "Well, whatever he wanted to say must not have been that important," she quickly surmised. "Do you have your books?" 

Dread encompassed her. Her mother hated it when she wasn't ready. "No," she replied timidly. "But I'll go get them right away." 

"Faith," Jackie warned her, waiting once again and crossing her arms. 

Faith held back a growl. Why did her mother always have to be so difficult? She was in church, how could she have possibly gotten her books? "God, why does she do this to me…" Quickly putting in her combination, Faith shoved all her books into her book bag to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything and dashed back to meet her mom, as so not to irritate her further. 

"About time," her mother complained, leading her out to their gray '90 Grand Marquee. "Are you forgetting anything?" 

Faith plopped down inside the comfortable car as the door unlocked. "No." 

"Are you sure?" Her words were drawn out, the same way she spoke when Faith told a lie. 

"No," Faith snapped. Faith never meant to, but somehow her personality went from normal and peaceful to short-tempered and sullen whenever she was in her mother's presence. She didn't mean to; it just happened. 

Her mother's face frowned. "What happened at school today to get you in this attitude?" 

Faith hated that question. "I am not having an attitude," she denied. 

Her mother laughed bitterly. "Well, then why're you acting like you have an attitude?" 

With a long, exaggerated sigh, Faith stared out of the window, not saying another word. Temporarily giving up, her mother did the same. Faith's eyebrows folded as they usually did when she grew upset. She remembered when they'd actually had a relationship. She'd come home from school, give her mom a hug and a kiss, have a snack, and talk about her day with her. Her mother was happy then, so was Faith. God, what had happened? 

The rest of the drive across down to the doctor's was spent in silence. 

* * * * * 

An athletic man with a small balding spot among his rusty mat of hair and a sideways smile, professionally extended his hand. "Hi, Faith. I'm Dr. Zenger. Orhtepedic surgeon extraordinare, at your service." Faith shook it cautiously. He straightened his thick, purple-framed spectacles first and then his colored tie that had the subtlety of a bursting supernova. 

Read: Fruitcake. 

"So…I hear that you've been having some trouble with your knees…" 

Faith loved the way they were all so perceptive. "It's really sharp, like shooting pain in my knees." Faith had been to so many doctors she considered making a tape of herself saying that. 

The doctor gave a "mm-hmm" and wrote something down on his yellow legal pad. "Okay, and when does this happen?" 

"Whenever I run, jump, play sports…but it hurts most when I go up stairs." She arched her neck, trying to get a view of the paper as he furiously scribbled down in the pad. 

"Mm-hmm," he repeated. Faith almost made a face. The sound was getting annoying. "That's what the papers say…yes…" 

Faith cast an incredulous look her mother's way. Jackie shrugged with a confused smile on her face. Faith listened to the screech of the marker against the page and straightened her Catholic school skirt. She hated feeling like she was on center stage…especially with someone taking notes on her. 

"The X-rays haven't quite gotten here ye-" 

"Dr. Zenger?" 

The nurse caught him and everyone else in the room by surprise as she stood just outside the doorway. "The X-rays for Faith Clarky you wanted are here." 

The doctor speratically sprang to his feet from the chair with the energy of a caffeinated Richard Simmons and said, "Interesting timing…in that case, I'll be right with you, ladies…" He took the X-Rays from the nurse, and the door shut behind him. 

Faith immediately turned around to her mother. "Where'd you find him? In the psychologically-dependant section of the physician yellowpages?" 

From the look on her face, Faith figured her mother must not have caught the humor. "He's the best orthopedic surgeon in the area, and he wants to help you," she urged. "So what if he's a little eccentric? He'll get you cured." 

Faith crossed her arms, unintentionally mirroring her mother. "Yeah. Right. Just like every other doctor I've gone to in the past two years." She turned back around, sending the clear message that she had no intention to taking the conversation further. 

But Jackie never did take to subtle hints like that and never would. However, her sympathy did go out to her daughter. It had to be hard, dealing with all the false hope she'd been given since they found out there was a problem with her kneecaps in the first place. They'd told her by now her worries would be long gone. But they'd only tripled. Jackie sighed. "I wish it was different, Faith," she said sincerely, softly. "I really do." She went up to put a hand on her daughter's shoulder, but Faith brushed it off. Jackie frowned. "But it's not, and we're doing the very best we can. I only want to see you get better. You know I'd do anything for you…" 

Faith tried to shut her eyes, but failed. Scared, she stared up at her mother. "I don't want to hurt anymore." She took a second to calm herself down. "And I know you're doing your best. I know it costs a lot…" 

For a second, Faith thought she'd made her mother cry, but instead, Jackie rubbed her daughter's back soothingly in the way only a mother could. "The money's no issue. We only want to see you get better. And Dr. Zenger's the best around…we will get you fixed." 

Faith humored her with a smile, and was about to say something else when Dr. Zenger came trotting back into the office. There was a pause as he sat down and took a deep breath. "Okay, I've gotten a chance to go over the X-rays.." he announced. And all this time I thought you went out for sushi, she thought. 

"And?" her mother asked. 

There was definite awkward silence as the doctor began to talk once and then once more, but failed to both times. 

That same feeling Faith had felt when the priest had grabbed her arm shot back into her chest. Like dread and excitement expanding into one. "What is it?" she asked apprehensively. 

"Your…patella in both knees have averted further from their alignment than we originally thought…" 

Faith narrowed her eyebrows. "I know they stick out to the sides, but they always have. What's wrong…" She left the sentence open to be finished. When he didn't, Faith grew irritated. "Please, just tell me," she implored. 

The doctor swallowed backwards before speaking, and then said what Faith had had nightmares about hearing for the past two years. "Faith, your kneecaps have gone past the point that therapy can strengthen them." He paused, reverting back to his professional, computerized tone. "Studies have shown that by the time victims of this phenomena are eighteen, their knees lose all elasticity." 

Faith swallowed back a tear. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice cracking. 

"It means if steps toward immediate surgery are not taken, by the time you are eighteen you will lose the ability to walk." .... 


	5. Break-Down

BREAK-DOWN 

Chapter Four 

_Knees, surgery, bad, steps, surgery, knees, not able to walk, wheelchair, no, no, no, no, NO! _

But Faith didn't say a word. No, she didn't dare give him that pleasure. She was quiet as Dr. Zenger explained to her what the surgery would entail. She was quiet when her mother put an arm around her. She was quiet when her mother wrote out a bill that more reminded Faith of the price of a hotel on Park Place or a chance card in Monopoly than a doctor's fee. She was quiet when she got into the car, and she was quiet when her mother asked her if she wanted to go out to lunch and took her anyway. 

The host showed them to their seats at "The Big Apple", a quaint, old-fashioned restaurant her family frequented. Their menus came and went, and Faith stared blankly at her mother. 

It was funny, Jackie thought bleakly as she ordered a BLT with light mayonnaise and specified that she wanted her Thousand Island, or Russian, whatever they had, on the side of her salad. You imagine so many things for your child to go through….cancer, drugs, abusive relationships with boyfriends, getting into a car accident, being kidnapped…..Inside her mind she bitterly laughed. But for her daughter to be raped of her ability to walk…It seemed so distant that Jackie had never truly considered it. 

Yet here it was, boldly staring her in the face, leaving her helpless to watch it consume her daughter. 

Faith hadn't spoken for fear that she would burst into a fit of tears in public…one thing she had vowed never to do since her teachers yelled at her for her shameless hysterics in grade school. Faith kept holding on. She simply just wouldn't allow herself the luxury of crying. 

After all, soon, she wouldn't be allowed the luxury of walking. God, how Faith had taken it for granted. Walking, running, playing soccer, smiling even…it was gone, or would be soon by the doctor's predictions. Eighteen…it was something Faith had always looked forward to, and now she dreaded it. And would it come right away? It wasn't like the second she turned eighteen she would crumple into a pile and be fine up until that one point. However, that was exactly how Faith imagined it. Walking one day, and waking up the next on her eighteenth birthday paralyzed. She'd need a wheelchair. God, a wheelchair – when she was eighteen? When she'd finally gained freedom, it would be stripped of her. She would never marry or have kids or get a job. After all, who wanted to marry someone in a wheelchair? 

The salad with Thousand Island on the side, and Faith's bowl of chicken noodle soup came. 

Faith turned to her mother, her voice polite and very out of place considered what had just happened. "Thank you for taking me out to lunch." 

Jackie's eyes watered. "I was happy to." 

Faith looked down at her soup. Celery. Celery and onions. Faith hated celery and onions. 

Faith's spoon clamored against the plate, and she broke down. A small high-pitched moan escaped her throat, and she strongly pressed her palm against her lips, as if doing so would silence her cries. But it was to no avail, and another took its place after the first. 

Other tables started to look over, and mortified, Faith found herself helpless to only cry harder and more loudly. Hot tears poured from her eyes and hit her glasses before cascading downward mirroring the rocks on a waterfall. 

Her mother moved to comfort her, and for the first time in a long time, Faith allowed her to. She wasn't sure for how long she sat there, shaking and crying for all the restaurant to see, but she hit a point where she didn't care. Let them watch me, she thought bitingly. Let them think I'm some kind of messed-up teenager. They're right….I am. Mentally and physically… 

"It's not fair," she got out between her string of tears. "This is NOT fair…" 

Faith and her mother left the restaurant without their lunch and leaving a twenty to cover the bill. When they neared the house, Faith's tears stopped, and she once again became quiet. She didn't speak, didn't think. She wasn't really there. Depression hit and hit hard, leaving Faith ignorant to stop it. 

But even if she had cared, she probably wouldn't have even tried to push herself out of it. She didn't deserve it, and in another few years her life would be over anyway. These thoughts were Faith's place to hide, and with no light to shield her from the darkness, Faith embraced it and became a part of it. 

She forgot her mother, the doctor, and even the strange priest who had tried to call her away from her appointment. She was focused on her deepening self-pity now, and the more it consumed her, the more it would take a miracle to break her from it….. 


	6. Hiding From the Truth

**HIDING FROM THE TRUTH **

Chapter Five 

"So how were your classes?" 

Faith was temporarily shaken from her daydream and looked up from her chocolate milk to Ramona's questioning blink. 

She sank back down. "Fine." The monotonous tone was a slap to Ramona's face. 

She eyed Faith, brow furrowing. "How was the doctor's appointment?" 

"Fine." 

That monotonous tone again. 

Ramona smirked that famous smirk of hers. "How were the intergalactic llamas that normally frequent your farm and raise havoc on Ridgefield, New Jersey in hopes of carrying out their covert plans for world domination?" 

Faith looked up, humoring her with a smile. But the lull in her voice remained. "Fine." 

Ramona sighed, becoming exasperated. Faith shoved her untouched lunch in her brown paper bag. Crumpling up the bag with repressed anger Ramona hadn't seen in a long time, Faith got up to throw it out. 

But Ramona jumped up before she could pass. 

Faith stopped and backed up, frowning. "What's going on?" 

Ramona sighed, trying to make her look her in the eye. "Faith, you skulk around here like an abused puppy, jump at every noise, movement. You flinch when I touch you." She crossed her arms authoritatively. "I think a better question is what's going on with you?" 

Faith laughed, but the bitterness was still there. "What, you think my parents abuse me?" 

Ramona shrugged. "I don't know, you tell me." 

Frowning deeply, she pushed past Ramona. "My parents do not abuse me, never have abused me, and never will, alright?" 

Ramona froze, shocked by the shove. "Well, then what is it?" Faith kept walking, and as Ramona followed, she sped up. 

"Just TELL me," Ramona urged, running now as Faith took off in an awkward, jerky jog down the hallway. 

"Just leave me alone!" she shouted back, her kneecaps irritated by the impact against the floor. 

Ramona slowly came to a halt. "I only want to help you!" 

But Faith pretended not to hear her. She took the long way through the school's sad excuse for a library and past the second floor classrooms until she went back down the stairs and dashed in the ladies room. 

Ramona spent a few more minutes looking for her, but before she could get to far, a teacher ushered her back into the lunchroom, scolding her for leaving before the bell. Forced to bring her search to a cease, she stayed in the lunchroom, her imagination taking off on what could possibly be causing her friend so much distress. 

The bell rang, and classes commenced. But Faith remained alone in her stall, the fear of missing class overtaken by her fear of being seen crying in public. She used up half of a roll of toilet paper, and stayed there for the duration of the day. And though part of her was thanking God that Ramona hadn't found her, part of her still clung to the hope that she would. 

But she didn't, and that was her own fault, Faith told herself. As the closing bell sounded, she emerged, packing her book bag, and reached the bus across the schoolyard in record time. 

But little did she know that someone had been watching her the entire day, and that it was only be a matter of time before he would reveal himself to her… 


	7. Safety

**SAFETY **

Chapter 6 

Dinner came and went at the Clarky household without anything really real ever said. Her brother tried to be nice to her, and her mother tried to cheer her up. But nothing really helped. Faith was just as bad if not worse than she had been that afternoon. 

Like always, she left the table after helping clear it off and returned to her room to work on her math and English papers. She was halfway into the fraction section of her Algebra chapter when boots were heard outside of her door. 

"Hey, sport." 

Faith looked up from her homework to see a set of greasy, dirtied work clothes and a film of motor oil disguising her dad. He smiled at her, the way he always did when she needed it most. 

She weakly smiled back. "Hi." 

"How're you doing?" 

He'd gotten his BA in mechanics and conversation starting, she thought with a sarcastic smirk. But he meant well. Faith humored him with another weak smile. "Fine." The word of the day. 

"Oh…" he said. Faith was sure that he knew what had gone on at the doctor's office...but she wasn't about to bring it up. "Well…that's good…" He cleared his throat. "Well. I'm going to take my shower. There was a problem with the alternator on one of the trucks that came in. But it wasn't that hard to fix. I'm just glad it's over. Well…I'll talk to you later." 

And from the looks of it, neither was he. Faith nodded. "Talk to you later, dad." 

Smiling again, his boots lightly stomped against the hard wood floor, and he pulled off his shirt to reveal a back that was worked to the bone. 

He worked so hard to send her to Catholic school. Twelve hours a day. That Catholic guilt came and stuck as she turned back to finish her homework. 

By ten o' clock that night, Faith forced herself to push all thoughts from her mind. However, it was to no avail. Sleep still hadn't evolved from the long hours of the day by eleven, and by eleven thirty, Faith grew impatient. Though she wasn't sick, she took some Nyquil when no one was looking. As planned, the drugs took their toll within the next half hour, and Faith sank into a thankful, dreamless sleep. 

* * * * * 

Faith sat bolt upright in bed, shocked from her sleep. 

And was met with darkness. Immediately, her hand searched desperately for a light above her bed, and with some effort her hand made contact with it. 

Her eyes squinted, appreciative but pained from the sudden brightness. Faith gave a groan and turned to the illuminated red numbers on the clock next to her bed. 

Two thirty-eight. 

Awake now, her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten enough at dinner to get it through the wee hours of the morn. Obliging it, she flipped her feet out of bed and lethargically trotted to her kitchen, flipping on the lights as her only defense against the creatures in the darkness she knew weren't there…but launched an attack on just the same. 

With wide eyes, she stared at the empty kitchen, daring it to make one false sound. 

But only the distant rumble of a truck on the highway and a few rhythmic cricket chirps met her ear. 

Sighing, Faith rubbed her tired eyes void of her beloved glasses and opened the refrigerator. Hmm…eggplant parmesan from the night before…milk…cheese…old apples and oranges from who knew when…pasta from a few lunches back…Tabasco sauce…grilled zucchini and onions- 

Faith made a face. 

The pasta won. 

Setting the microwave for two and a half minutes, she slunk into one of the chairs at the table with a sigh. 

"Why me?" she asked, gazing upward. 

Faith knew it was self-pitying, but she couldn't help herself. She shrugged. "Why me?" she repeated. A cricket chirped, then another, and then the same one. 

She may have been talking to the ceiling fan, but really, Faith was talking to God. 

The gaze quickly morphed into a glare. "Why ME?" she demanded in a more confident tone. 

Silence. 

Faith sniffed, her voice quivering now. "I've done NOTHING. I don't do drugs. I don't hurt people. I follow the rules of my house. I don't lie, steal, cheat, commit adultery, don't dare to use your name in vain. I don't even cuss! I honor my mother and father, and I go to church every Sunday." 

Faith stood up brazenly, straightening her bathrobe tied around her waist. "This isn't fair!" she shouted in a whisper. Faith tried to find a way to insult God, to make him as mad as she was now, silly as the concept seemed. "How do I know you're even up there anyway, huh? How do I know that you even exist? It's not like you ever come down here to let us know you're really up there – IF you are at all. All you ever do is sit up there, sending us all this misery and pain." Faith swallowed, growing brave. "I have no friends at school, no friends out of school, no life, and now you're taking away my right to walk?!" Faith crossed her arms bitterly. "Well, f*** that. I don't want to believe in someone that'll let that happen." 

The rest of the lament she thought inwardly. How do I ever know he's hearing me. See...she waited a second for posterity. Ha, not a word. I knew it. There is no God…and I'll just have to get used to the fact. She scowled. Why am I even wasting my time thinking about this? 

_Faith…_

Faith was thrown from her stance and backed up against the wall. She didn't need to question who had called her name aloud. It wasn't her brother. It wasn't her parents, and she simply hadn't imagined it. 

"Oh my God…" 

Faith felt her breath hasten, and she froze, rigor-mortis style, her eyes locked on the ceiling as the voice emanated all around her. Then, her panic subsided….as if a sweet, calming air had suddenly surrounded and embraced her. Nothing mattered, except listening to the voice, which was calling to her ever so gently. 

_Shhhh…_ she heard. _I don't want you to worry anymore. I am here. And I am going to take care of you._

In that one instant, all of Faith's fears, inhibitions, troubles, and things that had once seemed important melted away, as if they had never even been there in the first place. She felt at peace, safety… And with that, fatigue overtook her, and she immediately felt her head droop downward. In a surreal calm, she left the pasta in the microwave and stumbled back to her room, exhausted. Faith collapsed down onto her bed, using all of her energy to pull the covers overtop of her body. 

She passed out and didn't wake up until the biting blare of her alarm clock jolted her from her slumber the next morning…. 


	8. Identified

**IDENTIFIED **

Chapter 7 

Faith wasn't even sure how it happened looking back, but somehow, she'd forgotten the night's events and the voice that had so reassured her. All she knew was that she had gotten a great night's sleep; her grades in school were spectacular, and while she was due for surgery within a month's time, something, though she couldn't put her finger on it at the moment, was right with the world. 

"Good morning," Jackie sang brightly in a voice Faith only heard when she'd done something right to please her mother. 

Sometimes she found it annoying, but today Faith giggled. "Good morning, mommy," she sang back in the same tone, using her old childhood endearment. 

Triumph, Jackie thought. She had made her daughter smile, laugh even. Maybe she was a good mother after all… She made her daughter fried eggs with the yolks still intact and buttered toast, one of her favorite breakfasts. 

The two didn't speak of anything too important….went over the weather, how school was going, how proud her parents were of her last progress report… But they didn't dare mention knees, surgery, or sadness, pleasing Faith even more. 

Faith waved to Jackie as her father's old '66 Ford pick-up came to take her to the bus-stop. Since they lived in the back of the woods, she had always had to drive to her grandmother's house out by the street. It was one of the only times Faith got alone with her father, and she generally enjoyed it. 

Once inside, Faith asked if the old truck was an antique yet, just to prompt her father to animatedly tell about how he'd had the truck since he was a kid, even learned to drive it when he was just eleven years old. Faith always listened gladly, though the story was about as boring as stories could get. 

Then why did she ask him to tell it? 

It was the way his eyes lit up, like he was telling the most important and dear-to-heart story of his life. Cars and trucks were his life, all he knew mostly. It wasn't that her father was uneducated - far from it. But he had a simple way to life that Faith admired. He knew what he loved. He knew what he was good at. He knew what he believed….and he never had the urge to question it. 

"Ooo, here comes your ride." 

Faith arched her neck to gaze up at the highway on the hill to see her yellow school-bus popping over the brim. 

"Here, sport, give me a hug." 

Obediently, Faith quickly put her arms around her dad. She took in his scent. Sawdust and burnt leaves…she probably shouldn't have found it appealing, but somehow she did. 

"Bye, daddy." There was that endearment again. 

Her father, Russell, smiled, causing the lines that broke from the sides of his eyes to crinkle. "Have a good day, kid. Don't do anything I wouldn't, and make me proud." 

Faith grinned, slinging her book bag over her shoulder. "I always don't, and I always do," she answered. 

With that, she trod across the street to the bus and took her usual seat in the dead center of the bus. Staring out of the window, she smiled. 

It was going to be a good day. 

* * * * * 

The bus took a different route, and a new kid got on, wearing the blue and white boys' OLRA uniform. Noticing that she too wore one, he sat across from her. His name was Ali. He was African-American, and he was new to the area. He winked at her twice, and Faith had even made a joke that he laughed at. 

When they got off the bus, she directed him to the principal's office, and they went their separate ways. But Faith smiled throughout the rest of the day, something she had not done in a long, long time. 

Aside from that, she got back an A paper in her Biology class. She was sitting there, when all of a sudden, a girl next to her named Genevieve said, "Hey, let me see your paper." 

At first, Faith was reluctant, but giving her best apologetic smile, she handed it to her. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Genevieve said aloud just as the teacher left the room. 

One of the girl's in the back wrapping gum around her artificial nail looked back. "What? What is it, Gen?" 

Faith panicked. She was about to be ridiculed, and once again she was powerless to stop it. 

Another one, a little chubbier, with her skirt rolled up to her thighs and shirt tail carelessly hanging out, sat up. "Hey, would you stop with all this raucous?" she said, seriously but really jokingly. 

"Hey, why don't you sit down and shut up before I tell your pimp you're going out of line," Gen sang, a sideways grin on her face. 

"He doesn't care. I make him good money," she replied. 

Faith found herself laughing along with the rest of the class. It was obvious they'd done this skit before. 

The gum girl (Faith found out later she was named Brooke.) put her hands on her hips. She was a skinny little thing with dyed blonde hair. "What IS it, Gen?" she demanded. 

"Oh!" Gen held up Faith's paper, causing the girl to inwardly panic as her Scarlet "A" was held up to the class to see. "Look at this! I can't pull a C in this class. Kid's got brains coming out from places I didn't even know existed!" Gen leaned over dramatically, playing around. "Can't you share a little, please? I will pay you. I will pay you anything you want, just give me some brains!" 

Faith laughed out loud, unable to stop herself. 

"And they said money from the corner wouldn't get us nowheres in school," Skirt-rolled-up said. 

Gen laughed, along with the rest of the class, and she handed Faith back her paper. 

"Hey, what's your name?" she asked. 

Faith was late in answering, and Genevieve let out a loud, honking laugh as she looked down at the paper. "Clarky! Her name's Clarky!" 

"Clarky, is that it?" Skirt-rolled-up joined in. 

Brooke cackled in the background. "Clarky…Clarkster. Ooo! That's what we should call her from now on." 

Faith's label for the rest of her high school days was set. "Clarky", really her last name, became a growing trend in their small Catholic school, and Faith allowed it. Though at first she feared it, it brought her popularity, and she grew to connect with it. It was an identity, and as she'd lacked one up until that point, Faith embraced it. 

And soon, while within the OLRA building, it was all she answered to. 

With the identity came several roles she had to play, but we'll get into that later. For now, Faith packed up her bag, a small grin glowing on her face and went to her locker. It was lunch-time…. 


	9. Remembered

REMEMBERED 

Chapter Eight 

"Hey, Ramona," Faith greeted, her smile bright and chipper as she plopped down her biology books. 

Ramona arched an eyebrow. "Well, this is a spectrum leap since yesterday." Faith visibly sobered at the reminder while Ramona took a sip of her drink. "What happened?" 

Faith shrugged, defensive. "Nothing. Do I need a reason to be happy?" 

"No," she said, blinking in surprise. "Just curious that's all." 

Faith regretted snapping at her. "I'm sorry," she apologized, her voice falling to its usual meek tone. "I'm just having a really good day, and I don't want to think about yesterday. Okay?" 

Ramona smiled understandingly. "Hey, it's all cool." And with that, she respectively changed the subject. "What was your day like?" 

Faith returned the smile, sitting up straighter. "Nothing out of the ordinary really. That's the weird part," she related excitedly. "I woke-" 

"CLARKY!" one of the girls from the opposite side of the lunchroom called in a voice not unlike that of an alcoholic's. 

But before Faith had time to react, a barrage of 'clarky's' came from all directions. 

"Clarky!" 

"Clark-Y!" 

"Clarkster!" 

Faith blushed, an embarrassed grin bursting onto her face. "H-hello!" she called, stammering. 

A cluster of titters, giggles, and galawfing laughter emanated from the table. "That's Clarkster for ya," Brooke declared. And as the moments passed, they slowly lost interest in shouting their greetings across the lunchroom. 

Faith turned back to Ramona. 

Her eyebrow arch heightened. "You know them?" she asked, incredulously. 

"Yeah," Faith replied, trying to stay casual about it. "They're in my biology class." 

"Oh," Ramona said. "Well…don't worry. They don't mean any harm, right now." 

Faith laughed. "Oh, I know. I was laughing with them before. I'm just surprised they even remembered me." 

Ramona nodded, and they went back to talking about other things. Ramona just kept telling herself that Faith's romance with the masked acceptance the group was offering her would fade. But Faith had been given an inkling of recognition, and instantly, she was hooked on the gateway drug and only yearned for more. Ramona tried to ignore the light in the young girl's eyes. She would see soon. They would lose interest. And they would hurt her – just like they'd hurt Ramona years before. 

* * * * * 

"Hi, mom! I'm home." 

Faith's book-bag clunked against the hardwood floor, and she kicked off her penny loafers, breathing in the freedom that came with the end of a school day. Walking into the living room, she dropped into her favorite chair, sinking so far down that she almost touched the floor. She knew the chair wasn't hers, but a part of her had unconsciously claimed it as territory years ago. 

Her mother smiled. "Hello, Faith." With a pause, she asked the predictable. "How was school?" 

This time, it was Faith's turn to pause. She smiled and waited for her mother to look up from the book she was reading. "Great." 

That got her attention. Jackie swiveled her gaze to meet her daughter's, a surprised smile taking over her face. It had been month's since Faith had used that descriptive term about anything. "Really? Well, what happened?" 

Faith sat back. "I don't know. It just was…great." 

Jackie fiddled with the bookmark in her book. "Well, good," she replied. 

The two sat there, Faith staring out of the window that looked onto their patch of forest and Jackie continued to nervously play with the bookmark. 

Finally, after about ten minutes had passed, Faith got up. "Well, I'm going to start my homework." 

"Wait." 

Faith turned around. "Yeah?" 

Jackie sat up, motioning for her daughter to come over and sit next to her. Faith sighed, but obediently did so. Jackie sat a little closer and put a hand on Faith's leg. "I have something to tell you." 

There was an undertone to her mother's voice that she didn't like. Dread, uncertainty. Her mother was going to give her bad news. Faith contemplated every possibly answer her mother could give her. Their cat had died? Had a relative died? Was something wrong with dad? Faith frowned. "What is it? What happened?" But instinctively, Faith knew it wasn't any of those things. It was something bigger… 

Jackie took a deep breath. "Faith, I don't exactly know how to tell you this. But I heard a voice from God last night." She paused, and Faith's eyes went wide as saucers as she remembered the events of the night before flashback-style. 

_I will take care of you._

Jackie looked straight into her daughter's eyes. "And the voice told me that through God, I would have the power to heal your knees from ailment."…… 


	10. Questioning Faith

**QUESTIONING FAITH **

Chapter Nine 

It all came rushing back to Faith in a series of memory flashes. How she woke up in the middle of the night, the voice calling her name, the way it beckoned toward her, and how it bore the promise of safety…And Faith should have felt safe. 

But as she sat there, staring at her mother, all she could feel was exposed and afraid. 

"What?" she breathed, every bone in her body locking. 

Her mother blinked, taken slightly aback. "I-I know it's hard to believe, but I believe that I can heal you…" 

Faith's temples throbbed, scattering her thoughts. "No," Faith snapped on impulse. Her voice shook with fear. "No, I won't let you." 

Hurt engulfed Jackie's form. She had imagined a million responses to her strange proposal – but never this one. Why wasn't she happy? She was going to heal her for Christ's sake! She was going to make her better, to give Faith her old life back so she would be happy. So now why was she backing away from her like Jackie'd told her she was going to brutally murder her or something? 

"But Faith-" 

"No," she repeated, stubbornly as her voice began to quiver. "I won't listen to this. I don't want you to heal me." She awkwardly swallowed backward, wanting to cry. "I don't want you to heal me." Faith felt something inside her stomach tighten. All she wanted to do was run into her room, close the door, stay in there for a few days, and by the time she came out, everything that had happened within the past week would be forgotten and over…Her mother wouldn't be able to heal her, and even if she could… The physical therapy, the machines that hurt her knees, the strange view from a wheelchair, the surgery – she'd put her faith in those things, and they'd all failed. Why did this have to happen to her? She hadn't done anything to deserve this… 

Her mother looked upon her, bewildered. "Why not? Don't you want to be better? To be healed? To not have to worry about any of this anymore?" 

Faith sighed. That was EXACTLY what she wanted. But Faith's trust had been stripped of her; she simply had no more to give. "No," she declared. "No, I don't want you to." She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself collected. 

But it wasn't working. 

Faith went bolt upright and started to leave. 

"Faith." 

It was a command, not a request. But Faith just kept stalking away, determined to get far enough for her mother not to come running after her. Why couldn't her mother understand? She couldn't heal her. No one could heal her, even though they'd told her from the beginning they would be able to. 

"Faith, come back here." 

Faith slammed the door behind her, her breath coming out in high-pitched gasps. The room began to spin. What was her mother talking about? It was crazy. Faith didn't want her to heal her, even if she could. She just couldn't take the false hope anymore… She was doomed to a life without walking, and there was nothing – not doctors, not her mother, and not anyone could do about it. Gazing upward, her eyes found the crucifix above her bedpost. Faith scowled at it bitterly. 

God had had his chance to heal her. She'd begged for him to come save her, pleaded with him for the past two years. And where had he been then? Nowhere. And now he wanted to? When Faith had given up hope on everything? Perfect timing. Faith's entire body shook as she lie, clutching her bed covers. No way in hell was she about to give him that kind of control over her life. God only came when it was convenient for him, not for Faith. Didn't he know ever since she was little her biggest fear had been rejection? So why had her drowned her in it? Tortured, she gave a long, loud shriek, not caring who heard her. 

Her cries rose into the night, echoing throughout the house and the woods that surrounded them. She wasn't crazy. Just broken. In that moment, the false hope that had encompassed Faith claimed her. She wasn't about to let her mother heal her, and she wasn't about to put anymore of the precious little faith she had left in a fair-weather deity who had destroyed her life and was now half-heartedly trying to put the pieces back together… 

* * * * * 

Faith stayed in her room all night long, half-crying, half-sleeping. Her bewildered parents tried to get her to come out and tried to reason with her, but Faith ignored them. 

Jackie was a mess. It had taken all of her will power to confront her daughter with God's message. Jackie could barely believe it herself, and to be rejected so harshly…she wasn't sure if she was ready for what lie ahead. 

Maybe she could just let it pass. Her daughter didn't want to be healed. Wasn't that a key part of it? Would it work if Faith didn't want it to? Jackie had worked her entire life for her daughter to keep her trust in her, and now, she could see it slowly fading away. Jackie shook her head, brushing stubborn tears from the corners of her eyes. Failing to heal her would only make things worse. It would kill her daughter, and how could she do that? What kind of mother would she be if she did? 

…But…Jackie sighed…What kind of mother would she be if she didn't try to heal her in the first place? 

With nowhere to turn to, Faith's mother folded her hands in prayer, bolting her eyes shut. Dear God, please help me to know what to do. I only want to follow your will and cure my daughter. Please, help me to do the right thing. 

And no sooner had the thoughts left her mind than Jackie felt a surge of power birthed between the spaces of her fingers. She could feel it glow – even though it sent forth no light. It was warm, euphoric, and it needed, wanted to get out of her hands. 

Jackie nodded. She knew she had the power to heal her daughter…but the only question in her mind was: did she have the faith… 


	11. Choosing to Disregard

**DISREGARDED**

**Chapter Ten**

Faith avoided her mother in the morning, skipping breakfast and running out the door to catch the bus just in time.  It was Jackie's pained face that caught her eye and burned in her soul before her father's truck pulled out of the driveway.  It haunted her on the bus ride, in homeroom, and throughout her day.  Faith's own face caved in as she felt deep regret and guilt.  

But what could she possibly have said or done?  She wasn't ready to speak to her mother, or anyone for that matter, about the past weeks' events.  How could Faith put to words what she could barely put to thoughts?  

Throughout the bus ride and all her morning classes, Faith ignored hellos and lessons, distracted and troubled by what was and what would be.  No matter how she mixed and matched the outcomes of each life decision, none were any that she wanted to etch in her personal history, much less her memory bank.

Lunch was the same.  She brought her paper bag.  The geeks assembled.  Her newfound friends from biology class made 'Clarky' cat-calls and jokes until they resorted to the other forms of entertainment at their disposal.  Faith crumpled the paper bag, and Ramona asked her questions before reluctantly agreed to stop badgering Faith for answers she would not receive.

Papers were handed in; lectures were disregarded.  The clock was watched with great vigilance.

In her last class, Faith was in the midst of a rather pleasant daydream starring the mysteriously irresistible Chad Richardson, when Sr. Grace's voice came over the intercom, startling her.

"May I have your attention, please."  _You may, _Faith thought, relaxing back into her chair, as if the principal of her school needed her permission to continue.

 "The annual communion breakfast will take place two weeks from now, and as always, you are all encouraged to attend.  We will be needing eucharistic ministers, lectors, alter servers, and of course, music ministers for the mass.  There will be a meeting this Wednesday in the chapel for all interested."  There was a short pause.  "I would also like to take this time to announce that the women's cross country team won their meet 16-13."  Light cheering echoed around Faith.  Members of the team, she figured as she studied the lithe bodies the clapping hands belonged to.  There was a sport she'd never belong to. "And on a side note, as so not to keep you in any unnecessary suspense…your board members of the semi-formal committee ARE…"  There were gasps and held breaths all around as Faith paid attention.  "Jezebel Declay.  Patricia Green.  Kylie Smith, and Sabrina Rosencrantz."

Faith smirked to herself.  Why had she even cared enough to listen?  She knew no one on semi-formal committee; they were all seniors.  More over, Faith would probably never even attend a semi-formal, let alone one day be elected on the official decorating committee.  She laughed cynically to herself.  Especially, if Ramona had anything to say about it.

Accordingly, the reactions of the class ranged from unrestrained joy to sour disdain to Faith's brand of vodka – sudden disinterest.

_Then, Faith, if you remain so apathetic_, a voice so closely linked with her own nagged, _why do you feel a deep-seated disappointment and bitterness growing inside of you?_

The question posed to her only made her that much more sick to her stomach.

Disturbed and frowning, Faith decided then and there that the best way to deal with the strange changes going on around and inside her would be to completely ignore them for as long as humanly possible.  She would listen to no more voices, and take part in no more delusions of grandeur.

As the last bell sounded, Faith had a strange and sudden urgent need to see Ramona.  She needed to talk to someone.  She needed to feel some sort of kinship with her peers and feel reassured that she was loved and acknowledged.  She would tell Ramona that she was sorry.  She would tell her that she was going through difficult times, and that above all else she merely needed a friend to accept her.  Resolving to explain herself to her friend, Faith took off out of her seat and was the first to leave class.

So determined was Faith to reach the lockers before Ramona left for the weekend that she didn't even take a moment to lift her gaze to the surging masses.

It was one that cost her.  She collided with a body in motion, dropping all of her books and falling into a heap.  The passerby fell on top of her, and darting her eyes upward, Faith met the eyes of the unfortunate victim of her clumsiness and gasped.


	12. Abrupt Meeting

SUDDEN MEETING Chapter Eleven 

The glaring, shushing nun from church the day before looked down upon her, kicking her feets and growling as she struggled to stand.

"Sr. Mildred!" Faith exclaimed, scrambling to help the rather portly (read: well-fed) sister to her feet.  "Sr. Mildred, I'm so so sorry."

"Get-Get off of me!  Clumsy girl!  Look where you're going!" she chided her, hurriedly brushing herself off.  The nun's habit had gone sideways, and her hair stuck out from all sides, only further convincing Faith that she had run into a ticking time bomb, just about to go postal.  

She gulped, eyes wide.  "Sister, I'm so sorry.  A-are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright!" she boomed, her voice causing Faith to cower down to the nun's stubby height.  "Do I look alright?" 

"No?" Faith answered weakly.

"No!  I'm never alright when young ladies go barging out of their classrooms and knock me down onto the floor.  Look where you're going next time, or I'll give you a demerit for…for…" She searched for a crime.  "Outlandish behavior.  That's four demerits.  Now, that's almost a detention."

"You're right, sister," Faith hurriedly agreed at the 'd' word.  "I should have looked where I was going.  I don't know what I was thinking."

"Now, that's more like it."  Through glossy spectacles, her eyes glared into Faith's.  "Just who are you…for future reference…"

Her voice stuttered.  "F-Faith Clarky, sister."

"Faith, huh?"  She narrowed her eyes even further.  "Well, know this.  I've got my eye on you, Clarky.  Now, I understand most freshmen see me as an old fuddy-duddy barely capable of tying my shoelaces in the morning."

She quickly shook her head back and forth.  "No, no, sister.  None of us see you that way."  In truth, Faith had actually heard that exact shoelaces phrase used by a cocky sophomore that morning.

"I am a heavy follower of the OLRA rules and regulation booklet."  'Heavy' was definitely the operative word, there.  "And a strict believer in punishment for crimes committed."

"I understand, sister," Faith swore.  "And it will not happen again."

"Well, alright," Sr. Mildred said.  She turned to leave.  "Do you sing alto or soprano?"

Faith blinked five times in a row.  "Excuse me?"

"You heard me.  Alto or soprano, Clarky?"

"Alto," she said, much bewildered.

"Good.  You can make this up to me by attending my meeting.  I need some singers for communion breakfast. I'll see you in the library on Wednesday, four p.m. sharp, Clarky."

Faith's mouth hung open in disbelief.

With her back turned to Faith, the nun addressed her once more, "Keep it gaping like that, and you're just inviting flies."

Her mouth snapped shut, and it took Faith several moments to finally utter.

"Wh-what?!"  Great.  Faith hated singing.  She mostly dreaded church just because she was expected to sing along with the rest of her family.  

"You dropped these."

Shocked back to reality, Faith turned to stare into the eyes of…

Chad?  The bright beautiful boy held out her books to her.  Speechless, she took them from him. Faith smiled waveringly, and he smiled back.

Deed done, he nodded her a good-bye.  "See you later."

As he retreated, Faith held out an arm and tried – with no avail – to form words.  By the time she had found her voice, he was down the hall, out of the door, and most likely out of her life.

"Hello.  How are you?" she said to the empty hallway, not believing that she'd missed the opportunity to speak with him.  "My name's Faith Clarky.  I want to bear your children?"

So disoriented was she with the quick, spastic events, that for a moment she couldn't even remember what had made her leave class so hastily in the first place.

"Just who are you talking to?" a familiar voice demanded.

She swerved around, books in arm.

Right, she thought, smirking.  Ramona.


	13. Speaking Terms

Speaking Terms  
  
Just mere moments before, Faith had considered all sorts of topics and phrases and witticisms to dazzle Ramona with, but when actually finding herself face to face with her friend, all she had to draw on was an empty mind and cotton-dry mouth.  
  
"I mean, I know Sister Mildred is the very epitome of feminine beauty." Ramona's words held a sarcasm the weight of a twelve-ton brick. "But you and her - I mean, what would the children look like?"  
  
Despite herself, Faith let out a loud, appreciative laugh that melded with Ramona's chopped-short chuckle.  
  
"No. No, fortunately I have no inner romantic feelings toward Sr. Mildred," Faith said, welcoming banter after her stressful night.  
  
"Probably healthy," Ramona commented.  
  
"I ran into her earlier, and I mean, actually plowed her over, not just bumped into her. But I had actually been talking to Chad," Faith admitted.  
  
"Oh," Ramona said knowingly. "Chad."  
  
She looked behind herself. "Not that he heard me, of course."  
  
"Of course. Ran into Mildred the Ripper, huh? Any scars?" she asked, distinct smirk in place.  
  
"Oh, no. Just got signed up for music ministry. Being an alto," Faith said, rolling her eyes facetiously. "Something like that. Apparently, I'll be expected to go to meetings for it from now on."  
  
"Oh, no, you've been recruited," Ramona let her know, faking an ominous voice. "There's no turning back now. You just signed yourself up for to the army of darkness." She put up her hands. "Minus all the fuss of mass destruction, weaponry, and death, while adding singing and harmonizing and tambourine-shaking to its resume."  
  
"I can see where they're similar," Faith replied, giggling.  
  
"Who wouldn't? Same mortality rate. It's like the mafia. When you're here you're family.and nobody leaves the family."  
  
"I thought that was the Olive Garden."  
  
Ramona lazily threw her hand forward, brushing the thought away. "Olive Garden. The Mob. Same thing when you live in Jersey."  
  
Faith laughed, realizing how much she had missed Ramona and her endless banter. Becoming comfortable, she traded her epic speeches for sincerity.  
  
"I'm sorry about the other day, Ramona," she apologized. "I just don't know what's going on with me right now." The words were earnest, and the honesty sat well with her. "I'm just scared."  
  
In a mother-like fashion, Ramona neared attentively. "Bad news from Dr. Bizzaro?"  
  
The humor lasted but a second. Faith nodded and found herself suddenly overcome with emotion. No one had asked her about the news yet. "Yeah," she got out, her voice quivering. "Yeah, it's pretty bad."  
  
Ramona lowered her gaze. "Faith."  
  
Though Faith had been sure she could explain what had happened simply and methodically, her body began to panic. In an attempt to stop her tears, her hand pressed hard against her mouth and her back slid against the nearest row of lockers in the abandoned hallway. Eyes wide, Ramona reacted, going onto her knees to clutch onto her friend. 


	14. Advice and Confidence from Ramona

Advice and Confidence  
  
Tears poured out from the corners of her eyes, and Faith gathered her arms around her head as it fell into her knees. "It's so terrible, Ramona," she nearly shrieked, beginning to allow herself to sob. "It's so terrible. I can't believe this is happening. It's just so surreal. It's like one day I'm walking and I'm fine, and the next day." Though she tried, Faith stopped to let the emotion subside.  
  
Her arms tight around Faith, Ramona rubbed her shoulders. "Shhh," she softly cooed. "Shh.it's okay." An understanding silence fell upon the two. "Just tell me when you're ready. It's okay. You can tell me."  
  
It was several long minutes before Faith could explain her situation, but when she found her voice, she did as Ramona requested. She released, telling her all about the hopes and trials of the past two years, all about her most recent doctor's appointment, and as painful as it was, about her mother's claim that she could heal her.  
  
"I just don't understand," Faith said, her voice slowly returning to a normal tone and level. "How could someone declare such a thing? How could she do that to me?"  
  
A scientifically oriented individual, Ramona found herself at a loss for objective explanation, but not, she reminded herself, for rational critique. "Well." she began. Faith looked up expectantly. "The only reason I can see for why your mother would tell you such a thing is that she truly believes she can."  
  
Taking it in, Faith listened attentively. Truly, Ramona was right. Her mother must have thought it through before she would dare share such information with her daughter, whom she had taken such lengths to raise as well as possible.  
  
Faith looked to Ramona, brushing away the last of her tears. "But what do I say to that?" she asked. "How do I tell her that though I know she thinks she can help me that she can't? How do I tell her that I don't want her trying?"  
  
Ramona shrugged. Though she wasn't sure she knew the answer, she took a stab at it anyway. "That is what you're going to have to figure out," she declared, envying the girl's position in no way possible. "You're going to have to find a way to let her know that she can't heal you, no matter how much she wishes she could."  
  
She nodded again, this time more energetically. "Yes." Faith said, liking the sound of this new and rational idea. "I'll have to tell her. Because we can't go on wishing that things could be so simple."  
  
Ramona nodded. "Indefinitely." She made a derogatory noise, crossing her arms. "I can't believe your mother said that. Fantasies like that are the last thing you need right now."  
  
Faith starred off. "Yeah. You'd think." Suddenly, the girl jumped and looked at her watch. "Oh my God, I missed my bus," she said in a strange voice, the occurrence somehow sounding of less importance in light of current affairs.  
  
Ramona smirked. "Here." Faith felt the weight of two cold quarters in her hand. "Take the extra twenty cents." Ramona's eyes widened and returned to their original size. "Somehow it sounds like you and your mom are going to have a lot to talk about."  
  
"Yeah, seriously." Her hand clutched the two coins. Sitting there, Faith felt an on-slaught of reality setting in, and calmed by that sense, she began to plan her argument. She found herself coming out of her despair. Of course, her mother couldn't heal her. It was physically impossible. Anyone could see that.  
  
Getting up to go to the phone, Faith turned back to Ramona. "Thank you," she said, overcome with gratitude. "Ramona, I had no idea who to talk to about this. I felt like no one would understand."  
  
Feeling a warmth brew inside of her (something she usually avoided at all costs), Ramona reluctantly shared an embrace with Faith. Though rare, she figured could spare one just this once. It sounded like Faith was going through more than Ramona had initially perceived.  
  
Feeling uncomfortable, Ramona broke off the embrace and shooed the girl down the hallway. "C'mon, get out of here. Call your mother." Smiling, Faith nodded and jogged down the hallway in the odd, yet somehow endearing way a girl with faulty kneecaps would.  
  
Ramona let out a snort. If she wasn't careful, that girl was going to give her more Kodak moments that she herself could stomach. 


	15. Unnerving Conversation

Unnerving Conversation

Alive with new reasoning, Faith smiled as she dialed the numbers to her house.  Thankfully, someone was home and answered the phone on the second ring.

"Hello?" her mother's familiar voice requested.  "Faith, is that you?"

She blinked, surprised.  "Yeah, it's me.  I missed the bus.  I'm sorry.  But I really needed to talk to Ramona about something.  It was really important."

  
"It's alright," her mother said much more quickly than usual. "I'll pick you up.  We need to talk."

"I..I couldn't agree more," Faith said.  She frowned.  Hmph, what did she want to tell her now?  That she was really an alien lovechild abducted at birth and given to human parents to raise in the ways of their unique culture?  

Faith smiled proudly at the sarcastic thought.  Ramona would be proud.  "I'll be waiting for you," she told Jackie.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," her mother said.  "Be ready."  They said their good-byes and the phone conversation ended.

Sitting in the telephone booth at the end of the hallway, Faith bit her lower lip as she grabbed her book-bag and swung it over her shoulder.  Would her mother bring up the healing again?  Probably.  Faith stared further down the corridor lined with lockers at Ramona gathering her books.  

If her mother did, she would have to stick to her guns.  Faith loved her, but Ramona was right.  Her mother couldn't heal her, and whether her mother understood or not, it was wrong to give false hope like that to Faith when the previous events of the week had left her in so fragile a state.

Faith would have to explain that to her.  Though fearful, she smiled, thinking of Ramona.  It was a reassurance to know that even if her mother didn't like what Faith had to say, she knew at least one person would be on her side.

* * * * *

Walking down to her locker, Ramona realized that she herself had missed the bus as well, but planned to call her aunt as so not to interrupt the much-needed talk between Faith and Mommy Dearest.

She sighed, going through her belongings and lost in her thoughts, barely noticed as a gentleman of average height and weight came walking briskly down the hallway and stopped in his tracks by her side.

Looking up, Ramona instantly frowned.  As she gazed upon the man, she backed away, looking him up and down.  He was dressed conservatively, in blacks and grays.  "Yes?" she asked.  

She studied him.  Perhaps the only thing extraordinary about the man before her was his lack of any true identifying characteristics.  She smirked, probably one of the Bible salesmen the nuns sent around every once in awhile to convert the heathens.

Sporadically, the man held out his hand in need.  "I need to talk with you," he said hurriedly.

Fluttering her dark eyelashes, Ramona opened her mouth sideways to speak. "I've already got three Bibles.  We're a Catholic school, they see to that."

"No, no," he quickly said, moving his hands quickly in front of him.  "That girl that you were just talking to-"

"Yeah, she's got a Bible, too.  You're not gonna get much business in OLRA.  No one gets too far without a copy."

He blinked, and then smirked, understanding.  "I'm not selling bibles."

Ramona shifted her weight.  "Then, what are you doing in our hallway?" she demanded.

He paused as he attempted to get back on topic. "The girl you were speaking to.  Was that Faith Clarky?"

"Yeah?" Ramona asked, disregarding any authority the man might have.  She squinted at him.  "Why? Who wants to know?"

"You're a friend of hers," he said bluntly.  "I'd like to get to her."

Her lip curling upward, Ramona clutched her books to her bosom, giving the man a distasteful sneer.  "Whoa.  Get to her?" she echoed, articulating each word with an inborn rebel attitude.  

"Yes.  Do you know where she went?" he asked more politely, aware that he was being scrutinized.

Ramona bounced her hip and pointed upward.  "Do I have a sign that says 'information' above me?   What?  Do you think I keep a day planner for her?"

"No," he said quite sure of himself.  "But you two are close."

"Dern straight."  Her green eyes stared at him suspiciously.  What would a man like him want with Faith?  "And I like her well enough to keep her out of trouble," she said, slowly, carefully.  "So, why don't you just move on?   Unless you want to spill some grape juice on my home carpet to prove to me the power of Oxiclean."  

"I dress this way to make an impression," he said in his defense.

"Consider it made."  She turned her back to him and began to walk down the hallway.  

As it became apparent that the girl was not going to help him, he sighed deeply.  "I'm only trying to help her," he called after her.

"Yeah, well, that girl's got plenty of help, alright?"  It was true.  Faith was in good hands.  Ramona continued to talking to him as she made her way out of the building.  "So do yourself a favor."  She turned one last time to address him.  "Either find a more direct way of speaking to her, or keep out of her - "

But when she swerved around, only an eerily empty hallway met her gaze.  "Business," she finished.  Growing suddenly fearful, Ramona ran for the door and out into the autumn air, letting the standard glass school door slam behind her.

Uncertain of why she felt such a thrill of fear go through her, she ran across the street for the nearest pay phone and made a call to her aunt, explaining the strange event and imploring for her to come as quickly as she could.

Her aunt's rusty, rickety Toyota Dart came rushing around the corner in record time to scoop Ramona off the property, but only inside the car, did she pause to let out a deep sigh of relief.

Ramona shivered, though she didn't divulge all the disconcerting details to her aunt.  

"I dunno," she told her when prompted.  She made a face, shifting her thin shoulders backward as she crossed her arms.  "The guy just gave off that creepy air, you know?"  Though she couldn't explain why, Ramona had been sincerely frightened by his presence, and though there was no scientific certainty, she planned to follow her instincts.

As they rode along, she sat taller with proficiency.  "But don't you worry.  First thing tomorrow morning, I'll make sure he never gets in that school again," she said with certainty.  "The nuns are gonna hear about this."

And as everyone knew - when it came to keeping unnecessary testosterone out of any given area, there was no proven pesticide quite like that of the community of nuns Our Lady of the Rosary Academy…


	16. An Unfortunate Confrontation

An Unfortunate Confrontation

"Wow," her mother commented as the gray door of their '90 Grand Marquis clamped behind Faith.  "You're on time."

            Faith smirked, albeit good-naturedly.  "And you without your Nobel Peace Prize."

            The mother smirked back, a near perfect replica of her daughter's, as she backed the tank of a car out of the OLRA parking lot.  "I left it with all my other ones," she bantered back.

            The two looked at each other and shared an uncommon comfortable smile.  As much as Faith appreciated the quiet moment with her mother, the silence scared her.  If someone didn't say something quickly, her mother might bring up her ridiculous notions of supernatural powers.

            So she rushed to fill the gap in conversation.

            "You know, I ran into Sister Mildred today."

            Faith neglected to explain that she had actually, physically ran into the loud, obnoxious nun.

            "Really?" Though Jackie kept her eyes on the road, the interest in her voice was evident.

            "Yeah."  Faith rolled her eyes and crossed her arms atop her seatbelt.  "She wants me to sing in the choir."

            Her mother let out a chuckle over Elton John telling Faith that Daniel was traveling tonight on a plane.  "I can bet that was a short conversation."

            "It was," she replied.  "I start music ministry on Wednesday."

            Jackie paused, sending her daughter a disbelieving glance.  "You agreed?"

            "Yeah.  I sing alto," Faith said matter-o-factually, as if the practice of her joining church choirs was purely routine.  But then her voice lowered.  "Seems I don't have a death wish, or I would have told her 'no.'"

            Jackie smiled, bemused by the concept.  "Ah, one of those.  I was starting to wonder."  

The Grand Marquis made a right turn onto their long, winding driveway with the speed of a veteran, and Faith silently congratulated herself as she watched the multitude of pine trees fly by.  A few more moments of small talk, and using homework as an everlasting excuse, she could disappear into her room for the rest of the evening, unscathed.

"You better make sure she doesn't find out that you play piano," Jackie said.

            Without warning, Faith's face turned a shade more crimson that usual.  She momentarily panicked as the car made a halt in front of their house.  

Piano?!  

For years Faith had taken piano lessons, and for years Faith dreaded having to play in front of audience, be it an entire auditorium of strangers or two close family members.  No matter how much she prepared herself, when the time came to perform, something happened.  It started out as a small stomachache birthed of nervousness, and then she began to sweat.  Her hands clammed, and she forgot her birth name, as well as anything she had even learned about playing piano, including what notes to play.

            Faith had no idea why it happened or how to stop it.  All she knew was that if humanity needed her to be a piano player to ensure its very survival, humanity would have to mourn its loss and prepare for its complete annihilation.

            Unfortunately, sometimes her need to hide her talent was overcome by her great desire to play in complete solitude, and sometimes those periods of complete solitude inquiring parties, both large and small, would find her.

            Faith hauled her backpack, laden with books into the house.  "Trust me, mom," she said.  "I will be doing everything in my power to make sure Sister Mildred never finds out I know anything about the piano."  

As her mother turned away, the girl humored a battle plan in her mind.  Maybe she could pretend she'd never seen such a piece of equipment.  She'd gasp when she walked into the church, and look the massive instrument up and down with wide eyes of wonder.

            _Wow, _she'd say to Sister Mildred.  _What does your strange American culture call this extraordinary piece of architecture? _

            _Is it an ottoman?  A word processor?  An espresso machine?_

            "Faith!"

            She jumped at her mother's voice.  From the sound of it, Jackie had been trying for several moments to gain her daughter's attention to no avail.

            "Yeah?" Faith asked curiously as she let her book bag drop with a thud onto the kitchen floor.

            Jackie took a deep breath and expelled it.  "I still want to heal you," she said.

            Faith felt her stomach plummet.  Stupid, stupid, stupid!  Why hadn't she dashed into her room?  Why hadn't she used her time to plan an escape?  Faith in turn, heaved her own sigh.

            "And I said I wasn't going to let you," she made clear in a quivering yet final tone.  "We've been through this."  She went to make a break for it.  "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

            But Jackie got up, blocking her path.  "Faith, you are not leaving until we have this settled."

            "It is settled, _mother_."  She would have much preferred to use a much more descriptive noun at the end of the sentence.

            But Jackie held tightly to her daughter's small shoulders.  "Oh, no, you don't.  No more hiding from this.  I won't allow it."  She lightly shook Faith, staring her in the eyes.  "You have to face your life. And take responsibility for what has been offered to you."  Jackie softly tsked, disbelieving the fight her daughter was giving her over such a grand proposal from the Lord.  "Just sit back and look at the chance you've been given.  Do you think God offers to heal people through their mothers every day?"

            Something in Faith exploded at her mother's continued insanity.  "I AM taking responsibility!" she nearly screamed.  "This is my life, and my choice whether I want you to put your hands on my knees and chant over them."

            Jackie sighed, frustrated.  "I am _not_ going to chant."

            "Well, whatever you're going to do, I don't want it," Faith begged, feeling tears building up in her stomach.  "I don't want it.  And if you don't stop talking about it, I don't know what I do, but it'll be something we'll both regret."  Faith's scared eyes caused her mother to let go off her shoulders.

            It was a move she shouldn't have made.  Taking her chance, Faith dodged around her mother, ran down the hall as quickly as her legs would allow her (which wasn't very fast at all), and locked the door behind her.

            "Faith!" Jackie called after her daughter.  Torn between screaming in anger at her child's sudden behavior or running down the hall after her, all Jackie found she was able to do was collapse into a blue velvet chair at their dining room table.

            She allowed her troubled face to fall into her awaiting forearms that would serve a makeshift pillow.  Jackie traced her reflection in the well-polished surface of their mahogany table, feeling as though she was trapped in a nightmare of her own creation.

            Scrunching her eyes closed, Jackie prayed as her loneliness reached its peak.

            God had warned her that becoming his follower would be a task far from the ordinary, but he'd never told her that agreeing to serve him would be to put her relationship with her daughter in jeopardy.

            Jackie rested her face against the cool surface of the table and closed her eyes in prayer.

            "Please, God," she whispered.  "Give me the strength not to give up."

            Because even though allowing herself and her daughter to forget the entire business of miracles and healings seemed the most painless choice, something told Jackie that something greater awaited them.

* * * * *

            Hidden safely behind her locked door, Faith expelled a long, relieved breath of air.  Patting her cheeks flushed from the exertion, she leaned against the door and slid down onto the wooden floor of her bedroom.

            She had done it, and as her reward, hours and possibly an entire night of peace would be hers.

            She rested for a moment, and then looked up into her room.

            When Faith found what awaited her there, she gasped and let out a long, loud scream.


End file.
